A_Tale_of_Two_Cities_NT

A Tale of Two Cities
VI
The Shoemaker
‘Good day!’ said Monsieur Defarge, looking down at
the white head that bent low over the shoemaking.
It was raised for a moment, and a very faint voice
responded to the salutation, as if it were at a distance:
‘Good day!’
‘You are still hard at work, I see?’
After a long silence, the head was lifted for another
moment, and the voice replied, ‘Yes—I am working.’
This time, a pair of haggard eyes had looked at the
questioner, before the face had dropped again.
The faintness of the voice was pitiable and dreadful. It
was not the faintness of physical weakness, though
confinement and hard fare no doubt had their part in it. Its
deplorable peculiarity was, that it was the faintness of
solitude and disuse. It was like the last feeble echo of a
sound made long and long ago. So entirely had it lost the
life and resonance of the human voice, that it affected the
senses like a once beautiful colour faded away into a poor
weak stain. So sunken and suppressed it was, that it was
like a voice underground. So expressive it was, of a
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